


To Have Without Holding

by lieslwritesthings



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Last of The Jedi Series - Jude Watson
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 15:36:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20997179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lieslwritesthings/pseuds/lieslwritesthings
Summary: A certain uninvited guest arrives on Bellassa during the wedding of Ferus Olin and Roan Lands.Written for FerusRoanWeek on tumblr, hosted by @legendsliveon





	To Have Without Holding

As she walks through the streets, it occurs to her that she's never actually been to Bellassa before. It's a beautiful planet, one where everyone she passes seems to have an aura of comfort and ease, with the planet, even if not necessarily their particular feelings towards this particular day. Maybe that's why she's never been here; it's not the sort of place that tends to require the sort of missions she's usually sent on. But it's a nice place, that's for sure. She likes it, and the sun seems to give everything a soft golden glow at this hour. 

She knows where she's going, even though she's never been on planet before. (She has her ways; it's how she'd known to come to Bellassa during these particular nine days in the first place.) Even if she hadn't known exactly where to go, by the time she gets near, she can hear the sound of what she can tell is a gathering that's being thoroughly enjoyed by everyone in attendance, and even through a severed Force bond she can feel the sheer joy radiating from... _yes, there he is_. 

It's impossible not to smile as she stands by the open gate, watching Ferus. He's smiling, too, laughing, and his whole posture is different than she'd ever seen it before. He's relaxed, with a much more open and casual stance than she's ever seen. He hasn't noticed her; he's talking with a few other people, and has his arm linked with a man she can guess is Roan. They look happy together; they look like they _fit_ together, and she’s glad for that. There isn’t anything she could do -- nor would want to do to interfere; he’s responsible for his own choices, and she trusts him as much as she always had -- even if they didn’t look like they fit together, but she’s glad they do. It eases a small portion of the guilt she’s carried the last few years. He’s _happy_, truly and deeply happy, she can feel it, and he looks like this life on Bellassa suits him. 

He wears this comfort of love as though he was made for this, not for the life of a Jedi. That’s something she never would have guessed, with the way that he had always been so studious and learned so quickly, and had looked so lost and devastated when he resigned, even though he had equally looked sure in his decision to leave. If this is what he was always meant for, if this is the Force’s will for him, then this is good, she decides. It doesn’t completely remove the guilt of responsibility for his resignation from her shoulders, but it eases that tension just a little. 

A leaf falls from a tree and lands in Ferus’s hair, right on the gold streak framing his face. The gold in his hair matches the soft golden light from the late afternoon sun, making him look even more like he belongs here, like he enhances Bellassa itself and it enhances him, by his mere presence on this planet. Roan reaches up to brush the leaf away, and his fingers linger tenderly in Ferus’s hair, as Ferus turns towards him to take the opportunity to give him a kiss. 

“This is a private event, you know.” 

She pulls her gaze away from the couple, to look at the man who’s noticed and approached her, looking a little suspicious, but mostly amused. 

“I heard these are open events,” she counters casually, just stating the facts as she’d heard them, not really arguing. 

“Open to friends. And Bellassans.” 

“Convenient, then, that I’m a friend of Ferus’s.” She’s never actually called herself a friend of Ferus’s, and it feels strange on her tongue, foreign, really, not calling him her Padawan, even though he hasn’t been her Padawan for a few years now. 

“I’ve never met you.” That’s more suspicion, less amusement. She assumes that from the way he says it, it’s not uncommon for people to turn up at weddings uninvited, but usually with a more plausible friendship made up, or it’s just expected that Bellassans drop by to wish the happy couple well. Evidently she doesn’t look like she knows the custom, and the leather unisuit gives away that she’s not Bellassan. 

“I’ve never been on Bellassa before,” she answers with the same casual tone. 

“Then you’re not a friend of Ferus’s.” 

She has to swallow her indignation at the way he says that. Surely he doesn’t think that Ferus had no ties to anyone or anything before his arrival on Bellassa. (Or maybe he does think that; maybe _Ferus _doesn’t consider himself to have had any ties before he came to Bellassa. And maybe he shouldn’t; she’d failed Ferus as completely as any Master could fail their Padawan.) “I’m a friend of Ferus’s from before he came to Bellassa.” 

“Ferus doesn’t have friends from before he came to Bellassa.” 

That stings, and maybe she deserves it. “That hypothesis would seem to be incorrect.” If this man had originally been joking by telling her off for lingering by the open gate, he now raises an eyebrow at her, folding his arms and seeming pretty confident that she actually has no business here, and maybe he’s right. 

She’s not here to force her way in, or make a scene; she’d just wanted to see for herself that he’s happy. She hadn’t intended to stay long or say anything to him, this is his day, or series of days, as it seems to be on Bellassa, she doesn’t want to interrupt that, she’d just wanted to see, to _know_. Tru had also given her a gift to give to Ferus for him, and she’d intended to just leave her and Tru’s gifts somewhere Ferus could find them later, and go. She doesn’t even know if Ferus wants to see her, especially not at his wedding, especially not since she had so painfully felt him pull away from the Force entirely in the months after he’d resigned. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on staying,” she adds before the man can say anything else. She pulls out a small packet made of flimsi from her pocket, balances it on top of Tru’s box with her thumb, and holds them out towards the man. “Just see that he gets those, one’s from another friend.” 

That probably thoroughly throws him off; turning up uninvited to a wedding that he’s convinced she doesn’t actually know either part of the couple, with what he seems to consider an implausible excuse, and yet here she is with a gift. Two gifts, if he counts the gift she’s brought on someone else’s behalf.

She gives him a crooked grin without offering any further explanation. She can’t help it, she likes being unpredictable. 

“Hey -- Wil!” 

They both turn to look as Ferus makes his way over, mid laugh, and at a light jog. So much for a stealthy entry and exit… she must be losing her touch. Well if he just takes the gifts she can still slip away before Ferus gets too close… 

“Adem says you promised him you’d…” Whatever Wil had promised Adem loses its importance as Ferus catches sight of her and she can see the recognition instantly click into place. Too late to slip away. She really must be losing her touch. “_Siri_\--?” She can’t quite place the flurry of emotions in him, they’re shifting too fast and she doesn’t have the connection to him that she used to, even though it still feels to her like she should, and the fact that she can’t tell everything that he’s thinking and feeling right now makes the wound of the severed Force bond feel raw and frayed. 

She doesn’t need a Force bond to at least know that he’s happy to see her, delighted, even, and she’s glad of that; she’d have hated to ruin his day by lingering too long and getting caught here when she’d intended not to make him have to see her. 

“You _do _know her?” Now Wil looks like he has to reevaluate everything he thought he’d known about Ferus’s friendships, and the corner of Siri’s mouth twitches in amusement.

“Yeah, yeah of course, she’s--” smiling, almost laughing, he breaks off abruptly before he can finish confirming that she’s a friend, and even with her Force-heightened reflexes she doesn’t have time to react before he’s pulling her into a tight hug. 

That’s a first. 

Not her first hug, that would be ridiculous, of course she’s been hugged before. But never by Ferus. It’s just not really a thing she does, it’s not something that would have occurred to her to ever do before. But he flings his arms around her in that tight, well-practiced way that makes it seem like hugging is something he’s done a lot of since she’d last seen him. It takes her a split second to register all of that and figure out how she’s supposed to react, before she hugs him back. Not as tightly as he’s hugging her, but enough to let him know that she’s as glad to see him as he is to see her. She’s missed him. She’s missed him more than she’s let herself admit out loud -- or even just to herself. 

It’s several long seconds before he pulls away, and wipes a hand across his face like he’s trying to keep himself from crying. “She’s my sister.” 

She’s never been called that before. (She remembers briefly, like an old flicker, that time years ago when she’d been asked if she was Ferus’s parent, and she’d easily confirmed that she had been.) It’s like being hit with the warmth of a feeling she’s never felt before, and isn’t sure how to name. She’s always know that she loves Ferus, that she had cherished their time together, but there’s something… _something_ about the way he calls her his sister. Like he really means it, and doesn’t have any feelings of resentment towards the way she’d let him down when he’d been her Padawan. 

“How’d you know?” 

“Oh, I just had to refuel. Ussa was convenient, then I thought I’d take a walk while refueling. Stretch my legs… and you know I love a party.” 

He knows she doesn’t love parties, actually, and if he can guess (fairly easily, probably) that her choice of refueling location hadn’t been chance, he doesn’t say it out loud, just gives her a knowing look, and she grins at him. 

“You’re staying, aren’t you?” 

She shakes her head. She’d wanted to see him, see that he’s happy at his wedding, but she hadn’t planned on staying, and that part of the plan hasn’t changed. “You know I hate parties.” 

He bursts out laughing, shaking his head at the way she completely contradicts the opinion on parties she’d claimed to have just seconds ago. It’s a different laugh than she’d heard when he was her Padawan. It’s a better laugh, a warm, natural, easy laugh, and she likes it. 

“At least meet Roan.” 

She can’t say no to that. “Alright.”

“Wil, can you--”

“Of course.” Wil tosses Siri a little incline of his head as he leaves that’s probably somewhere between an apology for not having believed her, and still unsure who exactly she is. 

“This is from Tru,” she tells Ferus then, holding the box out towards him, the flimsi packet still balanced on top, “He said gifts are usually traditional for these occasions on most planets. The other thing’s from me.” 

He looks touched, as he takes the gifts from her. “Thank him for me…” 

She nods, hooking her thumbs through her utility belt. “He wanted to come, but didn’t want to interrupt.” 

“I’m glad you did.” 

She smiles, a softer smile than her usual grin, the sort of smile she’d always reserved for Ferus. 

“Wil said you want something?” The arrival of Roan Lands draws both of their attention, and Siri can see just how easily they gravitate towards each other, and the way that they so naturally fit beside each other as Ferus reaches an arm out for Roan as he comes over in a motion so fluid it seems almost instinctive. 

“I want you to meet--” 

“--Siri Tachi,” Roan finishes for him, smiling knowingly at her. “Ferus described you perfectly.”

She hadn’t realized that Ferus would have mentioned her, especially not enough for Roan to guess who she is on sight. She’s used to her reputation preceding her within the Order, or within the Senate, or other places, but it’s different here. It feels different, and it’s Ferus who’s talked about her, which makes it automatically feel warmer than from anyone else. She flashes a grin right back at Roan. 

“You should stay, are you staying?” 

She shakes her head. “I was just stopping by.” 

“Can I at least open this before you go?” Ferus asks, with the look of someone trying to convince her to stay just a little longer, but only because he wants her to, not because he needs her anymore. 

“You can do anything you want, Ferus,” she reminds him pointedly. 

He takes it as an invitation. “Which one was from Tru-- hold this for me? Thanks...” He hands the box over to Roan and pulls open the flimsi packet, squinting for a second at the little bunch of dried herb leaves inside. Siri waits the few seconds it takes the realization to dawn, letting him figure it out for himself, as she knows he will, then he looks up at her, looking scandalized and amused at the same time. “You didn’t.” 

She shrugs, and grins.

Roan looks understandably lost, looking from the herbs up to Ferus’s face, and Siri lets Ferus explain. “Yoland Fee has this herb garden, and he doesn’t like anyone to pick his herbs... Siri, it’s a rule!” He’s laughing now, but still looks scandalized. 

“But who is the rule for, Ferus?” She asks. _Padawans_. And even beyond Padawans, it’s a rule that’s really only known within the Order, only could be applicable to Jedi, and that’s the point. She remembers the first time she’d taken him into Yoland Fee’s herb garden. Ferus had barely been thirteen, so stiff and worried about breaking the rules or misstepping even a little, Siri had lightly teased him about getting that starch out of his tunic. (His tunics certainly aren’t starched now.) He’s not a Padawan anymore, he’s not a Jedi anymore, the rule doesn’t apply to him. None of the rules or codes or guidelines do. He knows that, of course -- he’s at his _wedding_, after all -- but she thinks he’ll understand what she’s saying. 

She’s saying that _she_ knows that he isn’t a Jedi anymore, that she knows and sees that he’s happy with the life he’s chosen, and that she’s _proud_ of him for it. For everything he’s decided, and done, and everything he will do in this new life of his. 

He doesn’t answer her question out loud, but the shift in his eyes tells her that he’s piecing together what she means with the herbs. After a few more seconds, he nods at her, and slips the packet into his pocket. “Thanks.” 

Roan chuckles now. “Wait a second… you broke into another Jedi’s garden and stole his herbs?”

The mischievous spark in her grin confirms that Roan’s blunt way of saying it is entirely correct. “There’s no lock, you know,” she tosses back, before adding teasingly “They’re good, too,” and giving the newlyweds a wink.

Roan laughs more, shaking his head and slipping an arm around Ferus. “Oh, now you definitely have to stay.”

“My ship’s probably refueled by now,” Siri says, “And you should get back to your party.” 

“It’s not really much of a party,” Ferus tells her, “You could just stay to eat if you want.” 

She shakes her head. “I should go.” It’s nothing to do with not wanting to stay, just wanting to let him get back to this new, full life he’s found and created for himself with his husband. She’s not part of it, and that’s fine, that’s _good_ for him, she can see that, but she’s not going to try to become part of it. _To have without holding_, that’s part of what she’d told him once, when he’d asked her how to live without attachments. 

Ferus nods, and Siri sees Roan’s hand tighten around his arm to give him a little squeeze. He’ll be fine with Roan. He’s been fine with Roan; better than fine, he’s thriving, and she feels that ease settle in a little deeper. He belongs here, with Roan. He had never belonged with the Jedi or with her. 

After a second, Ferus moves away from Roan to hug her again. She’s not as thrown off by it this time, but it still feels unusual. She doesn’t mind it. “It’s good to see you,” he murmurs. 

“It’s good to see you, too,” she replies as he pulls away, giving his arm a little touch. _You do have friends from before you came here_, the touch to his arm is supposed to tell him. 

He goes back to Roan, and she gives Roan a little nod of farewell, and turns to leave. 

“Hey, Siri?” She turns back around. “Come on: how’d you know?” 

She just grins. “Same way I know where to go for docs if I need to disappear.” She’s been keeping track of him; she’d never have completely abandoned him, even if he hadn’t seen or felt her since he’d left the Temple. She’d let him find his own way, because that had been his choice, and he had needed to be the one to follow it through, but she’d kept tabs on him when she could. She’d flagged the identification docs that the Order had provided him when he’d left so that she’d gotten updates on which planets his docs registered arriving or departing, then she’d done further checking when his docs had stayed on Bellassa for far longer than he’d stayed anywhere else. She’d found out when he and Roan had started their business, and she’d been impressed by it, too. Both with the type of work they chose to do, and with what she’d seen of the quality of their work. She’d mentioned it to Obi-Wan, too, and he knew about the file on her datapad. Once she’d known that Ferus was settled, and had made a life for himself here on Bellassa, she hadn’t checked very often. Some might call it luck or coincidence that she’d happened to do a little sporadic checking with enough time to find out about the wedding and be able to come over to Bellassa, but she knows better; it had been the Force, telling her to look so she could see that he really is just fine. Better than he ever had been, to be more accurate about it. 

Ferus looks a little surprised -- not shocked, but a little surprised -- at the implication in her answer, and it’s Roan who says “You don’t have to need docs to come by.” 

She doesn’t, but they probably all know it’s an invitation she isn’t going to take him up on. So she just smiles at them both again, and turns back around to walk away. She’s partway down the street when she hears Ferus call to her again. A sense ticks in the Force, and she turns around, one hand going up quicker than a flash to catch the muja fruit Ferus threw to her. 

“You have to at least eat something when it’s offered. You taught me that,” he calls over. 

She had taught him that: when food arrives, eat. But there’s something softer, less factual, and more meaningful, in the way that he says _you taught me that,_ and lets her know that even though he left, even though he’d resigned from the Order and his Force connection had frayed and severed, he doesn’t regret the lessons he’d learned from her or the time he’d spent with her. That eases a little more of the lingering guilt. She grins back, and takes a bite of the muja fruit. 

“Thanks… little brother.” She doesn’t wait to see the emotion flickering through his eyes settle on his face when she says that, but turns around again to walk away, without turning back again this time. She’s seen what she came to see, felt what she came to feel, and he should get back to his husband and his wedding. He’s changed since the last time she’d seen him, and it’s good change, she likes it, and she’s glad to have seen it. She’s proud of him for it; it’s the sort of change that keeps the galaxy spinning. 

The sort of change that makes it beautiful. 


End file.
